


Georgia On My Mind

by foryouandbits



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [5]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foryouandbits/pseuds/foryouandbits
Summary: Bitty catches Jack singing in his room.





	

Everyone has a different favorite pie. Jack’s the easiest, he actually smiles when he smells maple sugar crusted apple pie. The others are a little tougher, since they will demolish pretty much anything Bitty places in front of them, but after careful study since being back at the Haus, Bitty was fairly certain that Ransom also loved the maple crusted apple pie, Holster preferred banana cream, Shitty preferred strawberry rhubarb, and the rest of the team were evenly split between cherry and blueberry.

Bitty, on the other hand, always had a soft spot for peanut butter pie. He rarely made it at the Haus because there was no actual baking involved, no oven needed. Yes the cream was whipped fresh and yes he usually made a chocolate drizzle on the stovetop, but it seemed almost like cheating to call it pie. The boys knew no different and he did have two cherry pies in the fridge already, so as he stood in the kitchen crushing graham crackers for his crust, he made the executive decision that this was _his_ celebratory pie and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. He was finally clear to play again after his “mild concussion” in their penultimate game last semester, so Bitty ran to the murder stop-n-shop after conditioning and picked up a few ingredients before he ran home and began whisking.

No one was home when he arrived. That seemed unusual; conditioning was over for the day but classes weren’t beginning for another week. The Haus had been swarming with boys since Bitty moved in. Bitty didn’t mind the silence for a change, since being alone was sacred in a place like this.

Bitty placed the pie in the fridge to set, the smell of peanut butter bringing back memories of watching his mama whip cream by hand in the kitchen. When he was very small he could never make it all the way until the cream formed peaks before his arm got too tired, so she would take the mixing bowl from him and finish with vigor. She would hold out the whisk and show him the difference between a soft and a hard peak and would tell him to stop just there before he whipped too much and started making butter instead.

There were several reasons why Bitty was happy to be back in the Haus, but memories like these made him long for Georgia.

It would be hours before he could add the chocolate topping to his peanut butter pie so Bitty headed toward his room. When he reached the stairs he heard music for the first time, a low mellow tune coming from the general direction of his room. Bitty slowed his approach, listening hard, but by the fifth stair he was positive he hadn’t left his playlist running when he left that morning. He’d been listening to his pump-up mix and nothing about the slow piano-driven melody was appropriate for early morning wake ups.

Then, just as he reached the landing, he heard a soft voice lilt into the hallway.

_Georgia… Georgia…_

Bitty approached Jack’s door carefully; his door was ajar just a few inches, but it was enough to hear the soft voice of Ray Charles and, louder, Jack’s similar baritone. Bitty felt suddenly intrusive; Jack was much more approachable since Bitty’s injury but he was still unpredictable and Bitty didn’t know how Jack would react if he realized Bitty was listening to him sing.

_Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind_

Jack was really singing. Bitty had barely heard Jack speak in complete sentences and he was actually in his room singing, and, worst of all (best of all?), Jack was _good_. While the tone stemming from Jack’s lips wouldn’t win him a recording contract, it was smooth and balanced, a nice complement to the grit in Ray Charles’s voice.

Bitty leaned his head to try to see inside Jack’s room while hiding behind the partially closed door. Jack was folding laundry on his bed. Bitty could only see his profile from this angle, but Jack wasn’t lost in the music like Bitty usually was when Jack pounded on the door and told him to go to bed – Jack was absently singing along to the tune while he occupied his hands with his laundry and his thoughts with something else that Bitty couldn’t see.

_Still in peaceful dreams I see the road leads back to you_

If Bitty hadn’t seen Jack’s lips move, he wouldn’t believe that this voice came from Jack, that his hockey robot captain actually knew the words to this song, had them so engrained in his mind that they slipped out, natural as breathing. Bitty stared at Jack’s lips, waiting for the moment he would start again, but in Bitty’s concentration, he missed Jack finish folding the last t-shirt and turn toward his dresser to begin putting his laundry away.

Jack locked eyes with Bitty and Bitty jumped, a flush rushing to his cheeks. There was nothing to excuse this; Bitty stood just outside Jack’s door instead of across the hallway near his own room, Bitty’s hand on the wall, his eyes lined up with the four inch crack between door and jam. Bitty looked down at the hardwood floor underneath his gym shoes, but not before he saw the same flush spread over Jack’s face and down his neck.

“Bittle,” said Jack.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were home.”

“So you thought you’d sneak up into my room?”

Bitty finally looked up and was relieved to see Jack was smiling and, even better, chirping. Jack had opened the door and stood just a foot in front of Bitty, looking down at him with warm eyes. Bitty didn’t know what to say, and Bitty always knew what to say. Jack waited for a response and Bitty looked back at his shoes again before he replied.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” said Bitty.

“You think I can sing?” Jack asked. “Well that’s a relief, my mother always told me I should stick to hockey.” Jack returned to the stack of clothes on his bed but left the door open as an invitation. Bitty stepped inside and realized it was the first time he had ever actually been inside Jack’s room. It wasn’t like Jack constantly kept the door closed, but Bitty never had cause to go inside.

“Yeah I like it,” said Bitty and he let his eyes roam the minimal decorations of Jack’s room. His gaze landed on Jack’s sign that just said BE BETTER and his eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t recommend leaving hockey, though, since that’s more of a sure thing at this point.” Jack laughed a simple “Ha!” before he picked up a stack of t-shirts and placed them inside his dresser. “And if you were to pursue a singing career you might want to read up on current music. This song is older than my mother.”

“If I do at least I know I’ll have professional stalkers like yourself.”

“I deserved that, I know,” said Bitty. “I promise if I hear you sing again I’ll eavesdrop in the open.”

The song finished and, in the silence as Jack returned to his bed for another stack, began up again with a familiar swell of strings. Bitty looked at Jack’s computer. “You have it on repeat?” Bitty asked. Jack immediately turned to his laptop and shut it off.

“Yeah…sorry…” said Jack, and Bitty could see the flush return behind Jack’s ears while Jack faced the screen of his computer. “It’s a good song.”

“I don’t know,” said Bitty with a shrug. “I get it, but when you’re from Georgia –“

“I suppose you’ve heard it a lot,” said Jack over his shoulder. Bitty nodded. “I can put something else on.”

“Nah, I’m just going to go. I told my mom I’d Skype her when they cleared me and I have some time before my pie sets.” Jack turned back to Bitty, an unexpected look of regret on his face.

“Oh,” said Jack. “Okay.”

“You listen to your Grandpa music, Grandpa,” said Bitty with a smile, and Jack smiled back. “There’ll be peanut butter pie in an hour or two if you want a slice. With real peanut butter. Which has protein.”

“That’s not the kind of protein you should be eating.”

“Do you have a better kind of protein?” Bitty asked and his face flushed hot all over upon realizing just one of the many implications of his sentence. Jack’s flush hadn’t yet gone away but he didn’t go rigid like Bitty, so Bitty carefully but quickly backed out of the room. “Like I said, two hours. Peanut butter pie. Kitchen.”

“Okay, Bittle,” said Jack, and he turned back to his stack of clothes. Bitty headed back to the door. “Bittle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’ve been cleared. I need you back on my line.” Bitty managed a weak smile, still incredibly embarrassed over the entire interaction, before he darted across the hall and into his own room. When he shut the door behind him he caught eyes with Jack again, who hurriedly looked back at his clothes.

Just as his mother answered the Skype call with a smile and a wave, Jack turned the song back on again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [these tweets](http://foryouandbits.tumblr.com/post/151363428860/georgia-on-my-mind) and, of course, by the song.


End file.
